The Warrior and the Weaver
by JeanPhoenix
Summary: Before all of the gods and goddess, there was Neith, creator goddess and the patron of war and weaving. This is the tale of the Weaver and the Warrior, the two sides of Neith, and two hearts bound as one. Ardeth Bey x Oc
1. Death

There was only one goddess who had both a high priest and a high priestess. Neith, who was the creator goddess, patron of war and weaving, and also a guardian of the funeral rites, mother of Sobek, and the impartial judge that all came to when they could not settle their disputes. Often regarded as the oldest deity, she is 'everything that has been, that which is, and everything that will be', the female creator god of Egypt.

"I am frightened… for the first time in so long, I feel the stirrings of fear like an asp in my belly. A great evil has been done and in my heart of hearts I know that both of us are to blame for we did not see the danger until it was too late and we have failed in our sacred duty as protectors of Osiris, the Pharaoh and the dead.

Neith has comforted us, though. She, the Opener of the Ways, has promised us another life in which we will have a chance to right this great wrong. We must both die after we give the gifts of Neith to our beloved Pharaoh, and then our journey will have just begun… for Death is only the Beginning…"

- Asenath, High Priestess of Neith

Scroll located in the remains of the Temple of Neith

Date Unknown


	2. The Catalyst

_Disclaimer: I own nothing... except for Alya, Miriam, Joash, and any random people that aren't from the Mummy._

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The harsh desert sun beat down on the cloth covered head of a young woman who was moving swiftly through the camp. A few heads turned towards her, as she hurried through the center of the tents on her way to her family compound. It was unusual for anyone to be hurrying in the midday heat; most people rested inside their tents, or were working inside. A hot wind blew sand particles through the air, and into her face, and she reached up with her free hand to move a piece of cloth from her head covering around her nose and mouth. She rounded the final corner and reached her family's tent, sighing, she entered the tent flap, getting out of the glare of the midday sun.

The tent was cool and dim compared to the outside heat, as well as being large and comfortable. In this main room, there were colorful rugs over the desert floor, and large pillows grouped together around small low to the ground tables. On the wooden poles that held the tent cloth up there were polished brass lamps to be lit at night when the family stayed inside the tent.

"Alya?"

"Yes, mama?" Alya pulled her head covering off, shook the sand out of it, and untied the leather strip that bound her dark curls into a braid. Running her slender fingers through her hair, she shook the sand out of the mass of hair that fell to her waist, as her mother entered the main area of the tent.

"What did Zillah say, my child?" Her mother walked over to her daughter as she spoke, and lifted the head cloth out of her hand, and began to fold it.

Alya's brow furrowed, as she spoke. "Zillah is very ill, and Grandfather says that she may not survive the night."

The cloth slipped from her mother's fingers, and she paled visibly, turning back to her daughter. "But, Alya, she was fine yesterday." Her voice was carefully controlled, as she stood there woodenly, just staring at Alya.

"Mama… I don't…." Alya struggled to say what she meant, as she held out her hands to her mother trying to comfort her.

Her mother put her hands up in the air, "I am going to speak to Chieftain Bey." She went back into the private area of the tents, and came back winding her cloth around her head. "I'll be back soon, my dear, start dinner for your father and brothers and sisters." She kissed Ayla's cheek and swiftly left the tent.

She hurried to the Bey's compound, and met the medicine man at the door. The wizened old man had his leather bag with him, and seemed to be leaving the tent. "Miriam." He said softly, as she came up to him. His dark eyes, normally so bright and alert, were dark, and unsure.

"Is it true, Abba?" Miriam's grabbed his hand in a vice like grip. "Is Zillah truly dying?"

He bowed his head, not meeting her gaze. "My daughter, there is nothing more that I can do for her. She is in the hands of Allah." He sighed heavily. "You and Zillah have been like sisters, I suggest that you go in to make your final goodbye. Unless there is divine intervention, she will be with her ancestors and with Allah by the time the sun rises."

Miriam bowed her head, and covered her face with her hands. "Abba…"she moaned.

His old eyes were filled with unshed tears, and he gently patted her shoulder, "Go, my dear." He turned her towards the tent flap, and gently pushed. "I will check on you tonight."

Miriam took a deep breath and entered the shadowy tent. The main area was deserted, and so Miriam went back to the family portion. "Zillah?" she whispered into the gloom.

"Miriam?" Zillah's voice was rusty sounding, not the lovely sound that usually came from her lips. Miriam pulled aside the curtain dividing were Zillah was from the rest of the rooms with a shaking hand. She stifled her gasp, as not to upset her friend when her eyes beheld the form on the pallet. Zillah's normally shiny hair was dull and sweat soaked, her skin was pasty, and her lips were cracked. Her dark eyes met Miriam's and they were exhausted with deep circles underneath.

"I'm quite a sight." She said smiling mirthlessly, as she groaned after attempting to move.

"What happened?" Miriam whispered, sitting down on the pillow next to the pallet. "You were fine yesterday…"

Zillah's dark eyes were shadowed. "I do not know… This is so strange. It is like I am seeing two times at once…"

"Zillah?" Miriam asked softly, taking her hand, forehead creased with worry.

Zillah slowly turned her head towards her. "Remember the stories your father told us as children?" Miriam nodded. "The one of the Creature?" Miriam nodded again. Zillah squeezed her hand. "I can see it…"

Miriam felt her heart contract. "What do you mean?"

Zillah's eyes were wide now, and even though her eyes were staring directly into Miriam's, but she didn't seem to see her. "Ayla…" she whispered.

Grabbing her shoulder's Miriam spoke, her voice deceptively calm, "What about Ayla?"

Zillah's cheeks were flushed, and she mumbled something Miriam couldn't hear.

"Zillah?"

She began to gasp, unable to breathe anymore. "Ardeth…" she managed to choke out, "Alya- creature- love-" Her breathing was getting more and more labored, and she let out a piercing shriek.

A man shaped blur burst into the partitioned area. It was the medicine man; quickly he seized Zillah around the shoulders, and pulled her into a sitting position. "Miriam, go!" he bellowed to his frozen daughter who just stood there watching the life fading from her dearest friend. He shoved her with one hand, "You don't want to remember her like this!"

With a sob, Miriam stumbled from behind the curtain and into the main room, tears making it hard to see where she was going.

Zillah's husband, Aasim, leader of the twelve tribes stood before her, pale and sweating. "Miriam…" he stared at her as though he'd never seen her before. "My Zillah… she's not…" His eyes were wide and disbelieving, "No…"

Miriam did not trust herself to speak, and merely nodded, tears streaming down her face.

"No…" he whispered. "No!" his voice steadily increased in volume. "No, she's not dying!"

Almost as though in response to his statement, there was a great shuddering gasp, and then total silence. The medicine man came out from behind the curtain, and shook his head before bowing it. Miriam stuffed her fist into her mouth, as pain ripped through her core. She doubled over, and her tears fell even faster, totally blinding her. Aasim just stood there, opening and closing his hands, and staring off blankly into the distance.

"My lord?" the healer said softly, reaching to clasp his shoulder.

"Leave me…" Aasim whispered his eyes still not focusing, and not turning to the man who spoke to him.

"Aasim…" Miriam's voice broke, and her eyes bored into his as she stared up at him from the floor.

Her soft voice seemed to shock him out of the state he was in. "Go, Miriam." He said softly, tenderly touching her shoulder. "I need to compose myself before I tell Ardeth, and you should prepare your Alya."

Miriam nodded her dark head, as her father reached his hand to her, pulling her to her feet. "Come, child." He told her, "There is nothing more to be done." He looked to Aasim, and quietly spoke, "I will inform the elders, Aasim, and then I will come back so we may prepare her for burial."

"Thank you." Aasim responded, his eyes never leaving the curtain that hid his beloved wife from his view.

Miriam covered her face with her veil, and moving very slowly as though the time she spent in the tent had aged her, she returned to her tent.

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_Hmmm...Please review?_


	3. Sixth Moon

Two months had passed since the death of Zillah Bey. The people of the tribe were only just beginning to regain some normalcy, but it was obvious that their chief would never be the same. It was obvious that he had loved his wife even more deeply than anyone imagined, for a week afterwards he refused to eat, and barely ever slept. He had become merely a shadow of his former self, until there had been a large group of raiders had threatened the tribe then he had become ruthless, and completely reckless in destroying them. For all of the people it was painfully obvious that Zillah had been his reason for living, and now she was gone, and had taken a vital part of Aasim with her into death.

Everyone was relieved when he called for the celebration of Sixth Moon to still be held among their tribe. It seemed as though he was finally beginning to recover, and so preparations had feeling of relief to them that was unusual but better than the grief that had hounded the camp for the past two months.

Miriam was finding great comfort in the preparations, when she was busy it was easier to deal with the grief of losing her dearest friend. She, Alya, and her youngest daughters, Numa, and Zahrah all worked together with the other women of the camp to prepare fragrant dishes for the feast, as well as weaving new clothing for themselves and their families. Alya had generously volunteered to create the clothing for Aasim, Ardeth and Assam as there was not a female family member to weave for them, and she had become very skilled at weaving.

On the night of the celebration there was great rejoicing among the people as they all gathered in the center of their camp. Food and drink abounded, as well as merriment and music. It seemed as though they could all finally return to some normalcy as even Aasim seemed in good spirits, and ate many of the foods that had been prepared. Joash, Miriam's husband leaned over to her, "Who made the clothing for the Bey's?"

Miriam smiled, "That was our Alya. She has become quite the weaver."

He looked thoughtfully into Miriam's dark eyes, "She has grown." They both turned to look at Alya, who sat with other young women in a group near the center. She was slender and in the firelight she seemed to sparkle. Her long dark hair flowed down her back like a river of dark curls, and her blue eyes, so very uncommon in the sea of brown glowed in comparison to her tan face.

"It appears, husband, that we are not the only ones noticing Alya tonight." Miriam whispered.

Joash looked in the direction of her glance and chuckled, as he saw Ardeth Bey, who was unable to take his eyes off of her."I think I know why she volunteered to make the clothing for the Bey's."

Miriam nodded, with a small smile. "Perhaps you should speak with Aasim…"

"I believe I shall."

After all of the food had been devoured, and before the dancing started Aasim stood before the people of his tribe. "I have something to inform everyone of." He cried out. The noise level almost immediately dropped as everyone turned from where they were standing or sitting to look at their chief.

"I have decided," Aasim continued, "That the interests of the twelve tribes would be better served if I was no longer chief." There was an audible gasp from the crowd as murmuring broke out, Aasim paused and raised his hand for silence. "I will be moving to the Cairo Museum as the Curator, and will be leaving the Twelve Tribes under the leadership of my eldest son, Ardeth. He has shown great maturity and leadership in these past few weeks, and I know that he will make a great chief."

All eyes immediately went to Ardeth, even though all the people saw him usually every day, now he was going to be their chief and so he was deserving of a closer inspection. Seated next his father, he was a tall young man who had come of age the winter before. There was seriousness on his brow, and he knew his duty to the Twelve Tribes, but he was beloved of all the children, because he could always find time to play with them, or calm tears.

Aasim turned from the tribe to Ardeth, who was still seated on the ground, and bowed to him. Ardeth's eyes were desolate, as he motioned for his father to stand, but Aasim continued to bow while removing the scimitar from his waist. Holding it in front of him palms flat as though it was an offering, he waited for Ardeth to take it. Ardeth's face tightened, as he reached a slightly shaking hand out, and grasped the scimitar firmly before holding it above his head. A loud roar of approval burst from the crowd for Ardeth Bey, Prince of Maim and leader of the Twelve Tribes. No one but Ardeth noticed that in the activity, his father had slipped away from the celebration.

The sounds of lyres, zithers and drums broke through the cheering as the people took their jubilant mood into dancing and music. Wood was stacked onto the bonfire, until it was burning bright and almost as tall as a tent.

Alya felt a tug on her skirt, as she stood. Looking down, she saw the bright face of her youngest sister, Zahrah. "Alya, please, please dance for us?" There were several other children with Zahrah, and they all began to plead for Alya to dance.

She smiled, and wrapped her arms around her sister in a hug. "Zahrah…" she sighed.

"Please, please, please?" Zahrah began to jump up and down, still clinging to Alya's skirt. "You haven't danced in forever!"

Their brother, Malik, overhead the pleas of the children from where he was tending the fire and joined in. "Come on, little sister! Favor us with a dance!" He came over lifted her off the ground. "I will not release you until you do…" he threatened.

"Malik!" she squealed, futilely pounding on him with her fists, as he slung her around his shoulders, much to the delight of Zahrah, and the other children.

"Alright, alright!" Alya cried out. "I submit, I shall dance!"

Malik laughed from deep inside, as he placed her feet gently on the ground. "Good thing too…"he quipped. "You aren't as light as you look."

The crowd roared with laughter as Alya grabbed a pot of water and neatly poured it on Malik's dark head. "Now you won't smell so bad… I couldn't take much more." Her green eyes sparkled as she took the offered tambourine, and went to the middle of the circle. Miriam looked over to where Ardeth was sitting, to judge his reaction. A slight smile played on across his lips, and he barely inclined his head to Alya, causing her cheeks to bloom like roses.

A pipe began to play a simple haunting melody, and Alya swayed her hips to its gentle flow. Soon the pipe was joined by a harp, and she began to beat the tambourine against her hip. Another player added the drums and the music went into a wild beat, and Alya threw everything she had into this dance. Her grace and power were incredible as she moved in time to the rhythm of the music, her face shinning as she danced around the circle.

The song ended, and Alya froze in place, staring into Ardeth's dark eyes, as she felt a trickle of sweat slide down her back, and she fought to control her breathing and slow the rapid beat of her heart.

"Again, again!" cried the younger girls, and this was echoed by many of the older members of the tribe. There was a great sound of approval for this young woman who was everything she should be. Alya smiled enchantingly, and bowed to the members of the audience, shaking her head, and handing her tambourine to the group of young girls. She then slipped silently through the crowd, over to a rug behind her family.

"Beautiful girl, just beautiful. She is so sweet and respectful." The old women whispered among themselves, smiling and remembering their times of dancing.

"Lovely shape, such grace and spirit." Older men echoed.

The little girls watched her with their dark eyes wide, all hoping and praying that one day they would be as graceful and beautiful as Alya.

"You were wonderful, Alya." Joash said, squeezing her hand as she walked past her family.

"Thank you, Abba." Her smile was wide and lovely but didn't quite hide the sadness in her eyes. Miriam nodded to her, brown eyes filled with tears, because Zillah had taught Alya how to dance and they both shared a look of understanding, knowing that they were both thinking of her.

Everyone turned their attention back to the other girls who danced, and slowly everyone began to dance themselves, joining into the wild rhythm of the desert drums and instruments, celebrating another year having come and gone, and remembering those that were no longer with them.

Miriam looked away from Alya as Joash swept her into the dance, as they all sang and reveled together under the stars. A look over to the carpet where Alya had been revealed it to be empty, except for a sleeping Zahrah, who the excitement had been too much for and who was curled into a ball on the rug. Miriam smiled softly, and made her way from the circle to her youngest daughter. Lifting the six year old into her arms, she turned towards the fire, and saw that there was another empty carpet. Ardeth's. Miriam swiftly turned and carried Zahrah to their tent, placing her in the soft pallet she shared 

with her sisters. Bending down she smoothed the dark hair off of her daughter's forehead, and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek before slipping out of the tent to find her other daughter.


	4. Unusual Choice

_I own nothing accept for Alya and Miriam..._

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Miriam quietly made her way towards the Bey's tent, she had a sneaking suspicion (mother's intuition, she reasoned with herself) that Ardeth and Alya were there together, and if not, then hopefully he would at least know where she was. As she came around to the back of the tent, she heard soft voices, one male, and one female. So, she crept as close as she could to the portion of the cloth wall that they were coming from.

"I'm not ready to be the leader of the twelve tribes." Ardeth was saying. "What if I make a mistake, and destroy all of us?"

There was a soft snort that Miriam recognized as Alya's. "I can see it now: Ardeth Bey personally destroys the twelve tribes and the world…" she intones.

"Alya…" Ardeth whispered. "I truly am afraid." He continued his voice even softer.

Miriam's sharp ears heard rustling, as though someone had stood.

"Oh Ardeth," Alya whispered, her voice further from Miriam now, so it was obviously she who had stood. "You will be a great leader." Her soft voice became muffled, almost as though her head was in his hair. "Do not fear for us. We will not be destroyed by your hand."

"But I am not ready!" he said forcefully.

"Ardeth Bey!" Alya spoke firmly, "You are ready because you believe that you are not. You do not desire this power, and that is your strength and what will make you a good ruler. If you believed yourself to be ready, then you would not be."

Miriam noticed a small hole in the tent, near her level when she was crouched there. Putting her eye up to it, she found herself looking into Ardeth's portion of the tent and gasping at what she saw. Alya had removed her veil, and her hair was hanging loose around her. Ardeth had his face buried in her chest, as she gently stroked his hair whispering soothing words. Slowly the time passed, and Miriam felt her legs begin to cramp, but she was afraid of being discovered if she shifted her position. Ardeth looked up into Alya's face, and slowly he leaned his face into hers and their lips met. Her eyes showed shock, but she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, kissing him back, her soft lips the sweetest thing he had ever felt. He cupped her face in his calloused hand, while protectively wrapping his arm around her slender waist. Pulling her onto his lap, their kiss deepened, until they both broke apart breathing heavily. Ardeth's hand had slid down to her neck, and her hands were tangled in his course hair.

"Alya..." he moaned, pulling her even closer to him. "I don't want to stop…"

Her light eyes were filled with fire, "Nor do I."

Ardeth cupped her face in his hand, and leaned their foreheads together so that he could look into her eyes directly. "But we must…" she whispered huskily.

"I know that." Ardeth brushed his lips to her forehead. "But that doesn't make it any easier."

Miriam exhaled and raised her hand to her chest, feeling her pounding heart begin to slow. Raising her eyes to the heavens, she thanked Yahweh that they were both honorable children, and that she had not needed to burst in, or get Aasim or Joash. She peered back into the tent, to see what more they would do.

Alya had risen from Ardeth's lap, and was standing with her back to him. He had her thick hair in his hands, and was re-braiding it. After tying the end with a leather strip, she whirled around, and laughingly rose onto her toes, and kissed his nose. He laughed and pulled her into his arms, "I love you, my Alya."

"And I love you, Ardeth." Her arms went around his waist, and she squeezed him tightly. Leaning his head down, he brushed the top of her head with his lips. They stood frozen together for a few moments, before he held her at arm's length, so he could look into her light colored eyes.

"You must go, my dear. Before my father realizes that you are back here." His dark eyes twinkled slightly. "I would be forced to marry you."

Rolling her eyes heavenward, she threw up her hands. "Jehovah preserve us! We both know how difficult that would be for you…"

Ardeth chuckled, and rubbed his nose against hers, "I will walk you to your tent." He turned and began walking towards the tent flap.

"Ardeth, I am a grown girl, I can go myself." Her fists were planted on her hips, and Miriam felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. That stance brought back memories of a young child who had worked hard to keep up with three elder brothers, and had somehow managed it.

Sighing, Ardeth raised his hands in surrender. "As you wish." He bowed to her mockingly, with a smirk on his face.

Alya went to the partition, and just before she stepped out, she turned, and with a mischievous gleam in her eye she quipped, "Which is how it should be… Goodnight, Ardeth."

Her mother chuckled at that comment, and the expression on Ardeth's face.

"Always…" he murmured. "What must I do to get in the last word?"

Alya's voice reached his ears, so soft and light that it seemed more like a ghost of memory, "Kill me, love."

A shiver went down Miriam's spine as she crept away from the tent. It seemed so final, almost as though it was a prophesy, rather than a parting comment. Sleep was long in coming that night, for both Miriam and Ardeth, as Alya's words haunted them from wakefullness, into strange dreams...

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_So, what do ya'll think?_


	5. Daughter of Neith

_Night had fallen hours before in the Royal City, and in the Temple of Neith all was silent. Moonlight filtered down through the clouds illuminated the alabaster interior of the temple with a pure silvery light. The only dark spots were the gifts of food, and gold left by petitioners before the tall, glowing statue of Neith. A woman flew into the main area of the temple, collapsing before the statue of Neith, in tears._

_"My lady, I beg you to allow my daughter to live… she is only a baby. Her life has barely begun!" Burying her face in her hands, she began to cry, her whole body racked with her sobs. Slowly, ever so slowly, they began to subside, and she lifted her tear and kohl stained face to look into Neith's. "Forgive me, Opener of Ways… and please allow my daughter safe passage through Duat into the realm of the gods, if it is indeed your will that she leave us." She whispered through pale lips, as she raised her dark hands to Neith._

_There was a soft whimper from the front of the statue, and the woman immediately rose to her feet, going forward to discover the source of the noise. Instinctively, her hand curled around the dagger that was hidden beneath her arm, under her linen cloak. Climbing the alabaster steps slowly, she discovered at the base of Neith's statue a bundle of white linen cloth, and touching the corner; she realized that they were funeral wrappings woven for a pharaoh. "What in the world…" she whispered, as she reached with shaking hands to unwrap the cloths. There, buried in the folds was a tiny, whimpering baby. "Oh you poor thing…" she cried out, lifting it up into her arms. After a quick examination, she realized that this little one was a girl, with no identification beyond the funeral wrappings. Tearing her gaze away from the tiny child, she rose to look into the face of Neith's statue. "Thank you, my lady." She whispered. "I have no doubt that this little one is from you, and of you." Bowing her head respectfully, the woman backed down the stairs until she stood on the ground._

_"__Tadinanefer__!" A voice called out, and the woman turned to face the source of the voice, her face tight and resigned._

_"Yes, Paniwi?" she replied, facing the breathless woman who ran to her side with tear trails down her face._

_"Priestess, your daughter-" the younger woman began, as more tears leaked from her dark eyes to cover her cheeks with their saltiness._

_Tadinanefer__ sighed, and hung her head. "-Has passed from this world, into the next." She was surprised at how easily these words sprung to her lips._

_Paniwi's eyes widened, and she gasped. "How did you…" she began before trailing off and looking to the statue of Neith. "Oh…" she whispered, and bowed to the statue._

_"Who have you told of Zahra's death?" she asked, breaking Paniwi out of her thoughts._

_"No one, I thought it best that you know first. Should I have?" Paniwi cocked her head to the side, and stared up at __Tadinanefer__. "__Tadinanefer__, what are you holding?" her eyes were huge as she looked at the sleeping child in her friend's arms._

_"Have you truly never seen an infant before?" __Tadinanefer__ cocked an eyebrow at the shorter woman, gazing down at her skeptically._

_Paniwi's cheeks immediately flushed crimson as she stuttered. "I mean…where did it- how- what…?" she trailed off into silence._

_"Neith." Was the only reply she received, as __Tadinanefer__ was engrossed with the child in her arms, and so they lapsed into silence. _

_After a few moments, Paniwi spoke again, hesitantly. "What are you going to do with her?" Her dark eyes were still wide, and she was winding the cloth of her robe in between her hands._

"_I am going to raise her as though she were my own child, and twin to Amoun. She will follow after me as High Priestess of Neith." __Tadinanefer__ rubbed her nose to that of the sleeping infant in her arms and the little one opened her eyes. Her mother smiled, as the girl reached up with a chubby hand trying to touch her face._

"_Tadinanefer__, her eyes are the color of the Nile…" Paniwi gasped, coming closer to see clearly. When she looked up to __Tadinanefer__'s face again, her eyes were filled with wonder. "This little one is of the gods."_

"_Why else would she be wrapped in funeral wrappings, lying before the statue of Neith in her temple and found by her high priestess on the very night of her daughter's death? Paniwi, there are too many coincidences." __Tadinanefer__ continued to stare into the child's eyes, totally entranced by their color._

_Slowly, Paniwi nodded her dark head. "I agree with you, sister. Neith has indeed sent this little one to you." Reaching over, she reverently touched the downy hair on the little ones head with her forefinger. "I will prepare take Zahra to the chambers to be prepared for burial."Paniwi turned and slipped down the hallway._

"_Thank you." __Tadinanefer__ whispered, her eyes dark with sadness, as she stared after her friends retreating figure. Turning her gaze again to the child cradled against her breast, she whispered. "By the power given to me by Neith, Opener of the Ways, Protector of the Pharaoh, Osiris, and the dead, I name you __Asenath__, beloved of Neith,__ for she is the one who sent you to me."_

Alya awoke with a gasp, her chest heaving and sweat sliding down her back. She placed a hand against her chest, trying to calm her racing heart, all the while trying not to wake her sisters.

When Miriam woke, Joash did as well and immediately wrapped his arms around her, trying to calm his frightened wife.

Across the camp, Ardeth left the confines of his tent, with a blanket where he lay under the stars but sleep was long in coming.


	6. Well Water

_As usual... I own nothing but Alya and her family..._

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The next day was difficult for all of them, as Miriam and Alya tended to their chores ( and sometimes undoing the chores which were done by Haytham, the youngest boy of their family).

Later in the afternoon, Alya began a trek to the well to gather more water for preparing the evening meal. The sun had begun its decent; the shadows were longer and the light softer as she went through the sands. Normally she would be walking with several other women and girls but today she was slightly behind them all and as she arrived they were nearly ready to leave.

A cheerful girl laughingly called out to Alya. "Welcome, friend! You are late today!"

Alya smiled and waved back to her friend as she approached the well. "Greetings, Safiyyah. I have not seen you all day."

Her brown eyes twinkled. "There has been much to do today in my tent… but," she lowered her voice as not to be overheard. "I hear that the Al Khoutha is soon to take place for the Bey family." She stood on her toes to reach Alya's height. "Aasim has been speaking to several close friends, as well as his brother."

Alya felt a blush creep up her neck, and onto her face. "Really, Safiyyah? I had not heard." Thankfully at this moment the woman in front of her finished and Alya busied herself with tying the rope to her jug, making sure that it was attached very tightly.

"Oh yes! My father witnessed him speaking to his brother this morning, and told my mother! It is all so exciting; there hasn't been a wedding in so long! Do you have any idea who it could be?"

Alya shrugged her shoulders non-committaly and attempted to tune out her talkative best friend. A sudden motion caught her eye, and she looked quickly at it to revel… a rock. Shaking her head, she lowered the jug down into the well. There it was again; just a slight movement this time. Alya forced herself to look only with her peripheral vision, and she watched as the shadow slide down the rock. Her first thought was that it must be an animal of some form, perhaps a snake? No, the movement was too large. There was only one option and she knew it; after all no animal knew how to use the sun's light and a rock to hide their movements. A glint of silver hit her eyes, and she felt her stomach twist with the realization that these were men and they were obviously dangerous and up to no good. Suppressing an urge to run, she forced herself to listen to the speech of her friend as her mind began to race through her options.

"- And it can't be Samira because she is being given in marriage to a man in another tribe."

Forcing herself to nod, and willing her feet into action she began back towards the encampment, a mere ten to twelve feet away from where they were. It might as well have been the other side of the world.

"Alya are you alright?" Safiyyah's dark eyes went to her friends pale face, and she touched her arm. "You seem almost ill. Is the sun affecting you?"

Her lips didn't want to form a smile but she managed to do it. "Yes, yes, I am fine. Just in a hurry. Malik let Haytham water the goats today, and he used all that was left. Umma and I cannot make moraras until I get back with this." She shrugged her shoulder to indicate the jug she carried.

Safiyyah giggled. "I see. That had to be interesting."

Alya forced another smile as she reached her family's tent, and sped up a slight bit. "I will see you tomorrow, Safiyyah."

Her friend nodded and began to sing as she headed to her family's tent, located on the other side of the encampment from Alya's. Alya hurriedly ducked inside with the jug (thankfully Zaharah was sitting in the entrance to the maharama or the woman's portion of the tent and so she quickly passed it off to her with the instruction to take it immediately to Umma and not let Haytham touch it; before hurrying towards the main area of camp where she hoped to find her father or one of her brothers.

Everything about the evening seemed normal. The delicious scents of food wafted on the evening breeze, accompanied by children's laughter as they played among the tents under the watchful eyes of the women. Everyone seemed to be in a pleasant mood tonight; there was much singing and Alya even heard a few instruments being played. She quietly declined the invitations she received to come to the tent and rest a moment, saying that she must find her father, it was urgent. No one had seen Malik or her father; Yusef and Rayhan were both on patrols this month so not finding them was normal. Strolling around a tent, she saw the answer to her prayers standing before an older widow's fire; Ardeth was speaking to her youngest son. Her stomach uncoiled from the knot it had been in as soon as he made it way towards her.

"Alya?" he said. "What is wrong? Are you alright?"

"No…" she shook her head, "While I was getting water I saw men surrounding the camp. I don't know how many. But I do know that no friends of ours would be hiding that way."

Ardeth nodded. "I understand." A smile lit his face. "We will surprise the ambushers." He began to laugh.

Alya stomped her foot. "Ardeth it is not funny! People will get hurt, or killed!" She turned her head from him, unable to meet his eyes.

His eyes sobered, and he reached for her face but thought better of it. "Alya, we do not mind being harmed or dying for the tribe, it is the duty of men to protect women and children."

"I know-"she began but he stopped her.

"I would rather die a thousand deaths than see you harmed, my love." His eyes bored into hers. "Please do not worry about me, I will be fine."

"As long as I am not left alone." She whispered, looking down at the sand around her feet.

His reply was strangely familiar to her ears. "Where one of us goes so does the other. It has always been this way, and that will not change." He turned to go. "I must hurry, love." A grin came to his face. "Your mother could probably use some help undoing whatever damage Haytham has caused now."

Against her will she felt a smile creep onto her face at the thought of her youngest brother, and his _interesting _take on life. She turned and returned to her camp, stomach still in knots, but at least now they were smaller ones.


	7. Battles and Stories

"Alya!" Miriam cried out in relief as soon as she entered the maharama. "Please finish the _moraras_ for me, while I make _f__asooliyeh_, and Numa, find your brothers!" Alya took her mother's place before the flat large flat stone that served as a type of oven. The dough was in a bowl and her mother had been kneading it, so Alya quickly rubbed her hands in flour, and began to knead. _Moraras_ was a kind of flat bread that was often served in stew or sometimes eaten plain in the mornings. Tonight they were eating it in _f__asooliyeh_, a tomato stew with beans in it. This particular combination was Haytham's favorite and had to be carefully watched until it was time to eat. Once she was satisfied with the constancy of it she began pulling them off and forming balls with them, placing them on the steaming rock. Form, place, flip, form, place, flip, place on plate; she fell into the easy soothing rhythm and she felt the tension in her shoulders begin to leave. Sighing, she sat back on her heels, and wiped a stray strand of hair off of her forehead.

"Are you done?" Miriam looked up from the pot she was bent over.

Alya nodded and opened her mouth but was interrupted by the entrance of her father.

"Ahh, there is nothing like coming home to a delicious meal prepared by the most beautiful of women!" Joash exclaimed as he strode into the tent with a jovial smile, a wink for his eldest daughter and a kiss for his wife.

Miriam rolled her eyes and laughed at her husband's foolishness. "After seven children, dear husband, I am hardly the most beautiful of women."

"To me, my desert blossom, you are." Joash went behind the partition that hid his and Miriam's bed from the rest of the tent and returned with a blanket, which he spread on the ground well away from the fire. "Miriam, I am feeling rather tired, I believe that I will take a brief nap before I have dinner. You and the children feel free to eat," He gave a sharp look to his youngest son, "As long as there is a decent sized portion of _f__asooliyeh_ left for me." Haytham smiled brightly at his father, as he edged closer to his mother and the pot she was stirring.

"Numa, did you get the bowls like I asked you too?" Miriam asked, looking over to her second daughter, who nodded and pointed to where they sat by the fire. "Excellent then we will eat." She dished out the_f__asooliyeh_ among all of her children, and Alya gave them each a piece of moraras, and they all sat around the fire, and began to eat.

A piercing scream made Alya drop her bowl, and scramble to her feet. At the same time Joash sprang up with his scimitar hand, while Malik pulled his out of his robes. They both stood in front of the tent blocking the invaders from the women and children. Miriam grabbed Haytham and ran with him towards where their animals where enclosed closely followed by Alya clutching Zaharah with one arm, and crying out for Numa to follow. Crouching down they crept among the camels and hid behind their large furry bodies. Shivering, Zaharah clung to Alya's neck, and buried her face in the front of her thobe. Patting her back, and rocking her gently Alya turned her head to look for Numa, and her stomach twisted when she realized that she was not there.

"Ummu, Numa isn't here!" Alya whispered to Miriam, and their eyes met, both of them wide. "I've got to go after her!" Slipping to her feet, she placed Zaharah down in the sand and went to leave the corral.

"Alya, no!" Miriam whispered furiously. "Stay here!" She reached out to grab her arm, but her fingers met air as Alya seemed to flit away. Miriam moaned, and reached for Zaharah who had tears streaming down her face as she threw herself at her mother.

The camp was in complete chaos as she threw herself into the melee; one tent was burning, and several had been knocked to the ground. Men in red were fighting with the men of her tribe, bodies appearing a disappearing through the smoke. Her eyes and lungs burned as she ran through all of the commotion; ducking behind tents, around sweaty bodies, and staying away from anyone swinging anything sharp and silver.

"Numa!" She cried out, as she got closer to the center of the camp. "Numa where are you?!" The men in red seemed to be losing, but Alya didn't want to take any chances as she continued to go through camp searching for Numa.

"Numa!" she screamed in desperation. Why wasn't she answering? Spinning around, she felt tears forming in her eyes as she searched futilely for a small shape among the red and black fighting bodies. Suddenly she saw a dark shape huddled against a tent. It was her! Tears coated her face, coming from wide eyes as she pulled closer to the tent. Alya flew over to her side and wrapped her arms around her. "Come on, sister, we need to go!" she said, trying to pull her to her feet. Numa shook her head, whimpering. Alay struggled to lift her to her feet, but Numa went limp, and began sobbing. Covering her with her body, Alya sank to the ground in front of her as Numa curled against her burying her face in her thobe. Alya looked up and around searching for an end to the conflict, thankfully most of the fighting was dying down, and it was obvious that the Med-Jai would win. All of the men lying on the ground were in red; almost no one was in black. Breathing a sigh of relief, Alya began to look around for Malik, her father and Ardeth… but she could not see him. Her stomach tightened as she looked around, seeing her father, Malik, even Yusef but no Ardeth. Jumping to her feet, she managed to pull Numa up with her as she whispered in her ear. "It's alright, little sister. We are going to be okay. Come with me, we are going to Ummu, little one. We are going to be alright." Slowly she began to pull her sister along with her through the smoke and the fighting.

A shadow came running through the smoke, a scimitar raised. Alya screamed as Numa collapsed whimpering which caused the figure to pause and lower the scimitar.

"Alya? Numa?" Malik's face came into focus. He grabbed Alya by the shoulders, "Is she injured?" Alya couldn't answer; she just shook her head, ears ringing. "I can't carry her! Help us!"

Malik didn't question, nodding once he lifted Numa into his arms and began to run away from her. Alya wanted to follow but it felt as though her feet were stuck in the sand; an unseen force seemed to be controlling her body as she turned back towards the way she and Numa had come. A breeze caressed her face and caused the smoke to billow around one of the last struggles. It almost seemed to frame a path.

One man in black was surrounded by three of the men in red; his back was to the camp, and the smoke was hiding his struggle from everyone else. One of the men punched him, and his head swung around and she saw his face. Her entire body went cold, as she saw Ardeth's face twist and he paused as his eyes met hers. Throwing his entire body into a swing, he swung around to meet the scimitar that would have taken his head. An invisible rope seemed to be pulling her towards the scene, and she broke into a run towards him; not noticing that her _hatta_ had come off and her curly hair had escaped its braid. Fast as lightning Ardeth feinted and when one attacker took advantage of it, bringing his blade under to go through his stomach. As he crumpled to the ground the youngest attacker ran at him with a furious cry, and Ardeth met his swing with such strength that the blades sparked. What he didn't see was the other man who came behind him and raised his scimitar to behead him while he engaged in a furious battle with the young man. Alya heard a scream and wondered who it was, not realizing that it came from her own mouth as she threw herself at the man with the raised scimitar. He was much larger than her and probably normally would not have moved because of her slight weight but thankfully he was caught off guard he fell to the ground. Thankfully he hit his head on a large rock and lay still else she would not have been able to handle him. Ardeth and his attacker were momentarily distracted by the sight of the other man taken down by a girl with soft eyes the color of the Nile.

"Alya!" Ardeth yelled. "Get behind me!" He reached for her but his fingers only brushed the embroidery on her thobe because his opponent, a black youth not much older than he, had already grabbed Alya by the hair, and was using her as a human shield. "You cannot touch me now." His voice was deep, and there was a thread of hysterical laughter there. "This little harlot will save me until I can kill you the way you killed my father!" Lifting his scimitar he held it to her throat so tightly that Alya cried out. Ardeth froze, the blood draining from his face, and his eyes locking on the trickle of blood coming from Alya's throat.

"Leave her alone." Ardeth's voice was steady. "She is not involved in this." The last part almost sounded pleading.

"No." The youth broke into laughter. "And I think that I may keep her. She could be… entertaining." His lips twisted into a smile as he began to smell her hair, eyes on Ardeth the entire time.

A fearsome heat was threatening to overcome Ardeth as he looked on this scene. Red tinged his vision, and a growl escaped his throat as he threw himself at the pair. In less than half a second that thing's hands were off of Alya's throat, she was out of the way, and Ardeth was pinning him to the sand with a scimitar to his throat. He was ready to slit his throat; ready to end this person's life for what he had done to Alya, to the tribe and to himself.

_Ardeth!_

A melodic voice said his name sternly, bringing back memories of his mother's voice when he had gotten into mischief as a child.

_My son, don't!_

A figure seemed to form out of the smoke and came to stand in front of him. The first thing he saw was the thobe; embroidered with red as all married women's were, and his eyes traveled up to her face. Serene and lovely just as he remembered, many laugh lines from many years of laughter and delicate lines framing her eyes.

"Ummu!" he found himself crying out.

Holding out her hands to him she smiled shakily. _My dear beloved son, do not shed this man's blood!_

Ardeth felt that same heat flare in his stomach. "Why? He would have done the same to me, to anyone of us! He tried to kill Alya!"

Her gaze went to the ground as she turned her head away. _Do you really wish to be the same as him?_ Turning back to him, her cool blue gaze pierced his very soul as she faded back into the smoke.

Looking down at the man he still held, it occurred to him that this person was younger than he was, and had just lost a father. Climbing to his feet, Ardeth went to stand in front of Alya and spoke to the youth in front of him.

"Go, before I change my mind."

Nodding, the youth scrambled to his feet, nearly falling as he attempted to run before his feet had made contact with the sand. With one agonized look at the two bodies left there on the ground, he disappeared into the desert.

Ardeth turned and pulled Alya to her feet. Wrapping her in his arms he held her to his chest; he felt her heart beating wildly, and she was quivering.

"Are you alright?" he whispered into her hair. There was no response. "Alya?" He stepped back placing a hand under her chin so he could look into her eyes, which were wide and suddenly went blank as she went limp in his arms. Staggering slightly at the unexpected weight, he lifted her up into his arms, and held her close to him.

_There was a beautiful garden surrounded by a marble wall in which two children, a boy and a girl, where chasing each other. The boy chased after the girl as she flitted between the plants like a small fairy but finally as he tripped over a root he managed to grab her ankle and she fell into the dirt leaving a brown stain on her behind. Looking up at her companion her blue eyes widened before she was rolling on the ground laughing. He reached down to pull her to her feet, and she grasped his hand only to pull him down in the dirt with her as the hilarity continued._

"_Asenath, Amoun! What in the world are you two doing?!" _

_Both of them sat up quickly, and wore identical expressions of horror on their faces as they looked at each other, and noticed the amount of dirt on their linen garments. Amoun's side lock was completely unbraided, and plastered to the side of his head with mud which only made Asenath clap her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle; which in turn made Amoun laugh at the muddy hand prints on her face._

"_Children where are you?!" Paniwi cried out again._

"_Hide!" they whispered at the same time. Jumping up they both ran to the other end of the garden, and towards the gate which would lead them by the kitchens, and around the far side of the temple to their room._

"_Have you two managed to avoid Paniwi again?" A cool voice met their ears and they both skidded to a halt. Groaning in unison they turned around to face their mother, who stood looking at them with an eyebrow raised. _

"_I thought I told the two of you to stay indoors, and clean?" Their mother looked them up and down before raising her hands heaven ward. "I will never understand why Neith blessed me with the two of you... Now come to the baths quickly, my mischievous little monkeys."_

_Asenath watched her mother leading the way to the baths and thought that she must be the most beautiful woman in all of Egypt. Her white robe was loose and flowing down to her ankles, and was bound at her slender waist with a scarlet chord. Several golden bracelets each containing a single emerald, ruby, and sapphire adorned her wrist, and her upper arm had a silver bracelet with two arrows crossed over a shield with an ankh engraved on it. Her thick black hair was braided with golden and sliver beads which clinked as she moved and she was giving off the delicate scent of lotus blossoms._

_As soon as they entered the baths, she pulled of their soiled garments, and several servants appeared with jugs of water to pour over them. Asenath went to stand over one of the drains which would take the water to irrigate the gardens while Amoun stood above another one. The servant poured the water over her head, and she jumped, sputtering. _

"_Mother the water is cold!"_

_Her mother looked up from re braided Amoun's side lock, (who had had a similar reaction to the water) and smiled slightly. "Your first bath today was warm, but there was no time to heat the water a second time."__ She bound the braid with a golden clasp adorned with turquoise. _

_Finished with Amoun, she went over to Asenath, and smilingly began to run a bone comb through her hair, making her wince as it went through some tangles. Amoun caught her eye, and gave her a sympathetic look, and a wink before a servant began to rub perfumed oil on his skin. Another servant brought a bowl of perfumed oil, and rubbed it on Asenath. It smelled of a resin and myrrh; not an unpleasant smell but not nearly as pretty as the lotus blossom at least to Asenath._

"_When can I use the lotus oil?" she asked eyes wide._

"_When you are High Priestess of Neith." She smiled, and kissed her forehead before going over Amoun, and kissing his forehead as well. Asenath's view was temporarily blocked by the linen tunic being pulled over her head."Now, my dear children, it is time for you to go to bed." Taking both their hands (and ignoring their protests) she led them down to their chamber and lovingly placed them on their mats._

"_Will you tell us a story, Mother?" Amoun asked, yawning._

_"Of course." She thought for a moment. "I will tell you a tale of Apep." She paused before continuing. "Every night Ra must take the Sun Boat through Duat, the Underworld, and every night Apep, the giant serpent who is opposed to light and harmony, attempts to stop him. Set, the brother of Osiris-"_

"_And husband of Neith!" whispered Asenath._

"_Yes, and husband of Neith." __Tadinanefer continued. "He rode on the helm of the boat to slay the serpent-demon with his spear which Neith enchanted for him. Every night he did this until darkness found its way into his hear and he began to reject the goodness and light that Ra stands for. Joining with Apep, leaving Neith and their son, Sobek, the crocodile god, he began to fight against Ra, and seeking the throne for himself. Jealousy entered his heart and he began to covet his brother's crown and Isis, his brother's wife and Set's sister. __He created a trap for his brother with a sarcophagus and murdered him. Isis grieved for her husband and found his body and buried it but Set tore it to shreds, and scattered the pieces in the Nile. But he was undone by the land itself for the land helped Isis find the pieces and bury her husband, who became Lord of the Underworld, judging the dead as they enter Duat. Isis gave birth to his son, and named him Horus. When Horus was grown he and Set began to battle for the Throne of Egypt. They fought and Horus' eye was injured, which is why the Moon is so much weaker than the Sun. However their battle was hurting the land of Egypt and so __Banebdjetet__ came to Neith, the Mother-of-All, and begged her to intercede which she did. No one knew better than she the corruption that lay in Set's heart, and she saw Osiris' goodness and ability in his son. The Opener of Ways decided that Horus would be the next ruler, and her judgment was accepted which ended the war, and the land flourished. In compensation, she gave Set land and blessed his marriage to Anate and Astarte, two minor goddesses, and she left his side, going to be a protectoress of Osiris, the Pharaoh himself, and the dead." Kneeling down beside them, she placed a hand on each of their foreheads. "Sleep well, and do not fear the darkness. Neith will not allow harm to come to you as long as you are following the right path." Kissing each of them, she swept out of the room, the scent of lotus blossoms lingering behind her._


	8. Honor and Duty

Alya's nose was itching. It was itching horribly in fact but the cold darkness was wrapped around her like a shroud and would not allow her much movement. With great concentration she forced her hand to twitch.

"Alya?" A voice broke through the darkness. "Sweetheart, can you hear me?"

"Umma?" forcing her eyes open, everything was out of focus. The first thing that she could make out was the familiar pattern of her family's tent cloth that was blocked partially by a black shape. As she widened her eyes, everything else slowly came into focus including the black shape which turned out to be her mother.

"How are you feeling?" Miriam felt her daughter's face, and brushed back some of her wild hair. Ice filled Miriam's stomach as tears threatened to flow down her face again.

"Like I fell off a camel…" Alya groaned, as she pulled herself into a sitting position, clutching her head. "What happened?" She stiffened as the events of the afternoon poured through her mind like a flood. "Numma! Is she alright? Did Malik make it back? And Ardeth?"

Miriam engulfed her in a hug. "Everyone is fine, child. You are the one we feared for!" releasing her, she sat back, and placed both of her hands on her shoulders. "Ardeth told everyone of your cool head and how you managed to warn him of the attack without alerting the invaders. You saved our tribe, my dear!"

Alya shook her head, "I did what anyone would have done, Umma."

"Alya!" Joash came into the tent, the wrinkles on his forehead smoothing as soon as he saw his eldest daughter sitting up. "Is she alright?"

"Abba, I'm right here!" Alya groaned. "I'll be fine."

"Excellent!" He patted her hand. "Because tomorrow there will be a celebration in your honor!"

Before Alya could attempt to dissuade them her father's voice rang out. "All of you come in and see your brave sister!"

Immediately, she was buried in hugs from her siblings. Even Haytham squeezed his sister for a moment before ducking away with flaming cheeks. He was at the age when girls (especially elder sisters) were to be avoided at all costs. After a whispered conversation with Malik, he darted out of the tent and into the sunshine.

* * *

After Ardeth had gotten Alya to her family's tent it had taken every ounce of his self control and duty to force him to leave her side. What if this was more than just exhaustion? What if _he_ had hurt her? While hovering indecisively before her tent flap, his father's face appeared in his mind's eye. "A Prince of Maim must be more than a man. He must put his people before himself, the world before his family. Everything depends on his acceptance of his duty."

With a sigh, Ardeth turned to Malik. "If anything changes…" his voice failed and his eyes went to the ground.

Malik nodded. "I will send Haytham to find you." He gripped Ardeth's forearm. "Do your duty, my brother."

With a deep breath he forced his concern for Alya to the back of his mind. He was the Chieftain of the Twelve Tribes and his people needed him. His sense of duty was the only thing stopping him from being completely useless outside of Joash's tent. Moving away, he began to assess the damange.

Mercifully, their camp was mostly intact. Some tents had been knocked over, a few meals lost, and some animals had run away during the scuffle but beyond that there was no serious damage. The story somehow had begun circling almost immediately of Alya's bravery and quick thinking and how it had saved them from the massacre that could have been. The people were crying for a celebration to be held in her honor the next night but Ardeth told them to wait. In the back of his mind, he could not quite silence the nagging voice whispering that tomorrow could be her funeral.

* * *

A cool mist rose from the river, enveloping the boat in a muffling cloud. Amoun blinked sleepily as he stretched before joining his companion at the railing.

Rubbing his shoulder, he grinned down at her. "It would seem that years without a bed would be sufficient preparation for a single night wrapped in a blanket."

Her only response was a slight nod as she continued to stare into the mist.

"Bari says we will arrive as the sun rises. According to him it is a glorious sight."

This time he received no response.

"Ascenath, Mother would not wish for you to delve into your grief. She is safe in the afterlife now, in the realms of Osiris. We will see her again. After all, death is only the beginning." While sliding a muscular arm around her shoulders, he tweaked her nose.

With a yelp and a wild swing of her arm, Ascenath jumped away from him. "Amoun! Act your age!"

Eyes twinkling he grinned. "Finally! She is alive!

"You will pay for your actions!" Pulling up her linen dress slightly, she assumed a fighting stance. Amoun's grin became a smile as he mirrored her movement.

A man cleared his throat from under the canopy. "The two of you no longer have the luxury of behaving like children. You must fulfill your duty." Bari glared at Ascenath and Amoun for a moment before joining them at the railing. "Behold, the Great City of Pharaoh!"

Waiting at the dock was a company of soldiers, slaves, and a strange bench borne by slaves. After a whispered conversation with Bari, Ascenath and Amoun donned black cloaks and left their vessel to ride in this strange device to the palace.

"High Priest Amoun, High Priestess Ascenath!" Bari's voice rang out over the clamor of the harbor, "You will meet with Pharaoh when the sun is high. For now we are to go to the rooms in the palace reserved for your use."

Ascenath bent her head gracefully as the slaves began to move through the throngs of people.

The Imperial Palace of Seti the First was the most magnificent structure in the city of Thebes and all of Egypt. Made of cool stone, the sprawling complex was bursting with wealth and wonders from leopard skins from Ethiopia to rare blossoms and gems from the far reaches of Pharaoh's empire.

Near the center of the complex was the Throne Room. It was befitting the god he was believed to be with its high ceilings, papyrus like columns, sweet smelling incense wafting from golden lamps to purify the air, and walls lined with hieroglyphics proclaiming the strength of Egypt and divinity of its ruler. At the far end towered the golden throne of 'The High Priest of Every Temple' where he sat in state surrounded by his court of richly dressed priests and nobles. However none of them matched the splendor of their leader, the Pharaoh Seti.

All of this had been described to Asenath and Amoun from the time they were wide eyed children seated at their mother's feet. The edges of Asenath's lips curved up as she remembered the whispered midnight conversations and dreams of traveling to Pharaoh's city that filled their childhood. Unaware of the workings of the world, they had never realized their mother's death would be the catalyst for the dreamed of journey to Thebes as high priest and priestess to the greatest goddess.


End file.
